


Malevolent Intentions

by afteriwake



Series: Unexpected Legacies [3]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock has been trained by Merlin more in the use of his powers he takes a case in Eynsford, trying to find out why a particular home there has the occupants feeling as though there's an evil presence. Molly is accompanying him and before the case is solved Sherlock comes to a stark realization of just how important to him Molly is, and the lengths he will go to keep her safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So a lot of people apparently like the idea of me writing a Sherlock who can practice magic, so hopefully people will be interested in this series. The story is based on [this picture prompt](http://s28.postimg.org/5qq3qusz1/Page_Image_523457_4591807_017_zps51f2155f.jpg) by Dilek Baykara that was available for the Spook Me Ficathon at Livejournal in the 2014 round.
> 
> Also! In chapter 3 there is a brief scene of attempted sexual assault, so you've been warned. It's not graphic but it could be triggering.

With practice, Sherlock became better at using the various powers he had. John or Molly were always there to make sure he didn't get lost, as Merlin had put it. Sherlock had not asked exactly how he could get lost during the practice sessions but he gathered it would have been quite easy if he'd kept attempting to do things on his own. He didn't want to think about how close he could have come to that point because he got the feeling if he had gotten lost he never would have been able to come back and it would have been hell on earth for him.

He did well enough when John was there but he knew he did better when it was Molly with him. He'd pondered that for some time when he came to that realization. She was important to him, he knew that much. Perhaps just as important as John. If things hadn't gone so differently the plan had been for her to hide him at her home until he was able to go and take down Moriarty's network. That was something he had put off for the time being but he knew at some point, when he had better control, he would need to take care of that. But Molly had been instrumental in the original plan. He would have put his entire plan, as well as his very life, in her hands. He trusted her implicitly.

It had started to become more than that now, though. He wasn't quite sure where she fell on the spectrum of relationships he had with people. He had a sliding scale of sorts in his head of the level of trust he had, the level of how close he wanted to let a person in. On this scale people like Anderson and Donovan, people he had no interest in befriending, were on one end of the scale. People like Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were at the higher end. John was near the very end, and Molly was there too, but it was starting to get to a point where he was considering exactly how close he was going to let her get and the answer was coming up “as close as possible.” It unnerved him quite a bit.

It had been a month into his rather intensive training and Merlin had thought he'd had a good grasp of what he had needed to learn, and so Sherlock had felt confident when he took a case in Eynsford where a woman said her home was haunted. He had thought it would take two days, three at most. John had planned on accompanying him but when a patient of his got very ill Molly had volunteered to go instead at nearly the last minute. They had rented a car and driven to the village, and it wasn't hard to find the home at the edge of the village. It was a rather large home, and Molly's eyes were wide as they pulled up. “Oh, my,” she said. “How many rooms is that?”

“Seven bedrooms, I believe,” Sherlock said as he parked the car. “Not counting other rooms in the home.” They got out of the car and went to the boot to get their luggage. Sherlock had brought a bag as well as three suits and Molly had brought a small wheeled carry-on. “I do not know much about Ms. Evelyn Blake. She's something of a recluse. She has been persuaded to host a party this Saturday but she's worried that the people who come to the party will feel the strange things she has felt since she moved in a year ago.”

“And that's why you're here?” she asked. “To get it to stop?”

He nodded as he closed the lid to the car boot. “I have three days before the party to attempt to make that happen.” They began to make their way to the door. “Thank you for accompanying me. I didn't think it was a good idea if I did this on my own, even with the training I've received.”

“You're quite welcome,” she said with a smile. “It's nice to get away from London for a bit, even if it's doing something like this.”

“Hopefully you won't be bored,” he said with a faint smile as they made their way up to the door. Sherlock got there first but his hands were full so he waited for Molly to join him before he gestured to the door. “Can you ring the bell?”

“Sure,” she said, using her free hand to press the button.

After a few minutes a tall woman with black hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and warm brown eyes opened the door. She had on a crisp white blouse and a black skirt on. “Mr. Holmes?” she asked with a smile, looking at him, and he nodded in response. “I'm Mrs. Blyden, the housekeeper. I'm to show you to your rooms before Ms. Blake requests both of you in the parlor. If you'll follow me?” She moved out of the way and they stepped inside. “I apologize that we don't have a butler to carry in your things. Our most recent one left rather suddenly.”

“It's all right,” Sherlock said as she shut the door behind him and Molly. He could see Molly was looking around, slightly awed, and he grinned a bit at that. He stepped closer to her. “It is nice,” he murmured.

“Awe inspiring would be a better term,” she said as she looked over at him. His smile widened and she shook her head. “Don't tease.”

“I'm not going to tease you,” he said.

She gave him a slight glare and then hurried to keep up with the housekeeper. They walked up an impressive staircase and after a moment Mrs. Blyden stopped in front of a door and opened it. “This is your room, Ms. Hooper. You will be staying in the China Room.”

“Thank you,” Molly said with a nod, going inside and shutting the door behind her.

“Mr. Holmes, you'll be staying in the India Room,” Mrs. Blyden said, moving down the hall to the room next to Molly's. She opened the door for him. “Ms. Blake would like to meet both of you in ten minutes.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said. He made his way into the room, leaving the door open momentarily as he set his bag on the bed and laid his suits out next to it. He gave the room a glance. It had a very exotic theme and was well furnished, and he wasn't surprised to see old art on the walls. He went back to the door and shut it before taking a more detailed look at the room, thinking about what he had observed. The fact there wasn't a butler in the home meant Mrs. Blyden was in charge. He had not seen signs of other staff, but he knew there had to be help coming in, if at least for the party. The sooner he talked to whatever staff was here and had been here, the better.

He found the hidden door in the wall next to Molly's room easily enough, even though it was well hidden. He opened it and saw there was a small space between the walls, large enough for the door on the other side to swing open once his had been closed. He pulled his pocket torch out of his coat pocket and shut his door behind him, stepping across and shining his torch on the panel in front of him. He found the small knob and twisted it before pulling it open and stepping through. Seconds later a shoe hit the wall by his head. “It's just me,” he told Molly before he bent down to retrieve her shoe for her. He saw it was a heel and he was thankful she had missed.

“You scared the bloody hell out of me!” she said, glaring at him.

“I apologize. I should have knocked first,” he said as he moved towards her.

“No, Sherlock, you should have just not come through that way,” she said, grabbing her shoe when he got close enough. “And you had best not do it again.”

“So noted,” he said, looking around her room. It was just as well appointed as his, though hers had a definite Chinese theme. He began to more carefully examine the room, ignoring her as he did.

“You can ask before you snoop in someone's room,” she said, though she sounded slightly less upset this time.

“There is something in this home that shouldn't be here,” he said quietly as he looked over at her. “I'm trying to make sure it isn't in our rooms.”

He saw her still in her movements. “So there really is something haunting this place?” she asked.

“I'm not entirely sure,” he said after a moment. “It doesn't feel as though it's a ghost, and the few I've seen so far seem to be benign. Whatever it is I'm sensing isn't.” He watched her expression become more worried. “I will find it before it harms anyone.”

“What if you can't?”

“I'll find it,” he said, slightly more insistently as he moved closer to her. “If I'm not granted full access to the house we'll leave and she can find someone else to take care of her problem.” He got next to her and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't shrug it off he squeezed it as a sign of comfort. “I promise, nothing will happen to either of us while we're here.”

“All right,” she said with a nod as he removed his hand. “Do you want to stay in here while I finish unpacking?”

“If you want me to,” he replied.

“You're already here so you might as well stay,” she said, giving him a small smile. He moved away from her and sat down on her bed, watching her finish her task. When she was done she pulled her luggage off the bed and then sat down next to him. “Tell me the honest truth. Are we in danger here?”

He was quiet for a moment. He didn't want to alarm her but he also didn't want to lie to her. In the end he decided to be honest. “I'm not sure,” he said finally. “Whatever is here that isn't supposed to be feels malevolent but inactive. It's here but at the moment it's not actually _doing_ anything. But it has enough power to make people uneasy, and that is what it's done so far.”

“Do you have any idea what you're looking for?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet. But if there are secret panels in the walls I need to be even more thorough in my search. Just because it's in a certain are of the building does not mean I'll find it on first inspection.”

“What should I be doing while we're here?”

“Stay close in case I need a tether,” he replied. “You are usually a much stronger one than John is, and I may need that while we're here.”

“I would have thought John would be stronger,” she said thoughtfully. “You like him more.”

He frowned at that. Did she honestly think he preferred John over her? Hadn't she realized by now that he spent far more time with her than he did John? “Molly, I--” he began, only to be interrupted by a knock on her door. “Yes?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone of voice.

“There was silence on the other side for a moment. “My apologies, Monsieur Holmes,” a woman with a French accent said. “Madame Blyden sent me to fetch the both of you to meet with Mademoiselle Blake. It has been ten minutes.”

“Very well,” he said as he stood. After a moment Molly did the same. “We can continue our conversation later.”

“All right,” Molly said with a nod. She went to the door and opened it, seeing a blonde woman there with a maid's uniform on. “We're ready.”

She gave Molly a wide smile. “Excellent! If you will follow me?” Molly stepped out of the room with Sherlock right behind her. “My apologies for being the one to get the both of you. Madame Blyden had a situation come up that she needed to handle and she asked me to fetch you.”

“What's your name?” Sherlock asked.

“Anjanette Sauveterre,” she said, looking over at him as they began to walk back towards the stairs.

“How many other members of the staff are there?” he asked.

“Of the household staff there is only myself, Madame Shaw and Madame Blyden. Madame Shaw does not live on the premises, however. But Mademoiselle Blake has a ladies maid, Mademoiselle Velarde, who lives in the home as well.” 

“No men?” Molly asked.

“We had a butler until three weeks ago, a Monsieur Ogilvie, but he left quite suddenly and without a trace. It was as though the spirits of this house chased him off.” Anjanette led the way down towards the stairs and then glanced at Sherlock. “Are you really going to be able to stop what is going on here? It is most discomforting.”

“You can sense something is here?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can, and Mademoiselle Blake can. Mademoiselle Velarde says it is all in our minds, and Madame Blyden says nothing about it one way or the other. She pretends there is no problem.”

Sherlock stopped at the top of the stairs and the others stopped as well. “And is there a problem?”

Anjanette nodded slowly. “We lose too many members of the staff. They are here, and then they are gone shortly afterward. Some leave without a trace. How do you say...poof? As though they are here one minute and then nowhere to be seen the next.”

Sherlock nodded. “I see.”

“I should not be speaking about this,” she said, shaking her head and beginning to walk down the stairs. “It is not my place.”

“I am thankful you did, however.” He lingered a moment to put space between the maid and himself and Molly. He looked over at Molly. “Perhaps the malevolent presence I am feeling is not quite as inactive as I had originally thought,” he said to her quietly as they began moving again.

“That's a troublesome thought,” she replied. “Is that going to make things harder?”

“It might,” he said. “Are you feeling anything strange at all?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. Maybe a little uneasiness, but not much, and I'm not sure that isn't just nerves.”

“If you do start feeling strangely, tell me and I'll see if I can do something to alleviate it,” he said. She nodded, and then the two of them stayed quiet when they saw Anjanette was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. She led them down the hall to a room and opened the door. She opened it and Sherlock stepped inside with Molly behind him. There was a woman in a dress made of expensive fabric, sitting in a chair with a tea tray beside her. She was middle-aged, with touches of gray in her brown hair that she had pulled back in a chignon. Standing behind her was a woman of Hispanic heritage in a well fitted but less expensive pant suit, her black hair pulled back into a severe bun. When Sherlock looked at both of them he got a wealth of details about them. He nodded to the woman sitting down. “Ms. Blake.”

“Mr. Holmes,” she said with a smile. “And Ms. Hooper. Thank you for coming here to help me.” She gestured to the tea service. “I thought we could take tea and talk.” Then she turned to the other woman in the room. “For the moment I'd like to talk to them in private, Adriana. If I need you I will call you.”

Adriana nodded. “As you wish,” she said curtly before heading towards Anjanette and the door. Sherlock watched as the two women shared a look before they stepped out of the parlor and then shut the door behind them. That was a very interesting look, he had decided.

“Please, sit,” Evelyn said, getting Sherlock to turn his attention back towards her. Both Sherlock and Molly moved to the sofa in front of Evelyn's chair, and she began to pour the tea. “How do you take your tea?”

“Cream and sugar,” Molly said.

“I take mine the same,” Sherlock said.

Evelyn nodded and then prepared their tea. He saw she had not poured herself a cup, which surprised him. He could also see a slight tremor in her hands that she tried to conceal and was almost successful in doing. Most people wouldn't have noticed. When she was done Molly and Sherlock picked up their cups and saucers and had a sip. “Adriana thinks it was a mistake to ask for your help. She doesn't believe there is anything wrong with this home, other than a string of bad luck. I think it's more than that, though. I can feel something here, and I know I'm not the only one. If she stayed here while we spoke I don't think you would believe me.”

“Is she your ladies maid?” Molly asked.

“Technically,” she said, giving Molly a smile. “I prefer to refer to her as my personal assistant, because that is mostly what she does for me. It isn't as though she gets me dressed in the morning like an actual ladies maid would, and there are many other things I simply do not ask her to do that a ladies maid would do. But Mrs. Blyden refers to her as my ladies maid, and others follow suit.”

“The housekeeper's word is law with the staff,” Sherlock said.

“I suppose it is,” Evelyn said with a nod. “Adriana doesn't believe that you have any special abilities, even though you came highly recommended to me for specifically that reason. She doesn't think you're a fraud, not entirely, but she thinks that you're simply a detective of some sort, and because of that she doesn't think you need to be involved. But there is something wrong with this house, and you're the person I chose to turn to for help.”

“It would help if you tell me in more detail why you need my help,” Sherlock said as he took another sip of his tea.

Evelyn nodded. “I am the last remaining member of my family, aside from the son I had out of wedlock nineteen years ago. My family had been unhappy about it, of course, but they didn’t shun me and they didn't disown me. We may have money but we aren't nobility so there wasn't as much of a scandal surrounding it. Anyway, my father had purchased this home two years ago with the intent of having a home my son Tyler could inherit when he and I were gone. He spent quite a bit of money on the home, and then furnished it with the best art and antiques and furnishings. He had been fairly frugal with the wealth he had accumulated over the years so he had the money to buy the best and still ensure there were inheritances left over.”

“How long ago did you move into the home?” he asked.

“A little over a year ago,” she said. “My son had left to travel during his gap year when my father bought the home, and we moved in a few months before he was to leave for university. He felt uneasy here, though, so I arranged for him to have his own lodgings in the village so he would be close but not here. To be truthful I would have done the same myself but my father had his heart set on us having a life here.”

“How did your son feel uncomfortable?” Molly asked before sipping her tea.

“He felt as though there was something in the home that wanted to do great harm,” she said. “He couldn't explain it much more than that. I've felt that way as well, though not as often.”

“And what do you usually feel?” Sherlock asked.

“As though there's something waiting, and that I don't think its intentions are good,” she said. “And then there's the music I hear occasionally, as though someone is playing a frenzied song on the organ even though we don't have an organ. When that happens I feel quite frightened, and the feeling that something evil is lurking nearby gets intensified.”

“How high is the turnover in staff?” he asked.

She thought for a moment. “You would have to ask Mrs. Blyden about that. She's in charge of hiring the staff now. But I believe we've been through two cooks, three butlers and two maids in the year since we've been here. They stay for a time and then leave. I think they can tell that there's something not right here.”

“Why are you throwing the party this weekend?” Molly asked curiously.

“It is my son's nineteenth birthday that day,” she said. “He's having a party with his friends from university the day before, but he encouraged me to throw a themed party for him on Saturday night with the 'right' people, as he jokingly said. He thinks I need to not push away my father's friends, and I suppose he has a point, even though I'm not terribly close to any of them. After his death most of them have barely spoken to me.”

“How long ago did your father die?” Molly asked.

“Shortly after we began living here. He was found in the gazebo, dead from a heart attack, just before my son was to enter Oxford.” She hesitated. “I could have sworn I heard music the evening before, around the time it was said he died. I didn't think much of it at the time until I heard the music again later. Before I could find out where it was coming from it stopped. But it certainly wasn't coming from the music room.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “I'll need full access to the home and the staff,” he said when he spoke. “Do you have any other staff or guests here at the moment?”

She nodded. “Our cook, Mrs. Shaw, and Mrs. Blyden's son are here. His name is Jamie. He's between posts at the moment and has come to help with the party. He mostly stays in the servant's quarters or the billiards room, but if you need to speak with him I can arrange that.”

“I might,” he said. Then he paused. “I can't guarantee I will have this wrapped up by the time the party starts. The clue about hearing music helps, but this is still a large home and I think I need to make the most thorough search possible. But I will do my best.”

“That's all I can ask,” she said. “Have either of you had lunch yet?” They both shook their heads and she stood up. “Then let me arrange for something for you. Please, stay and enjoy your tea. I'll be right back.”

She left the room and Molly turned to Sherlock. “It seems as though there's more to this than you thought, by the look on your face.”

He nodded slowly. “Best case scenario is that all of the staff got spooked by whatever it is that's in this home and making this music that they are hearing.”

She took a sip of her tea. “And worst case scenario?” she asked.

“That whatever malevolent force is in this house is taking victims,” he said quietly. “I need to learn more about the staff that has left and the circumstances surrounding them leaving. I also need to explore every room in this home, from staff quarters to Ms. Blake's bedroom. Every inch of this home needs to be searched thoroughly.”

“Then I suppose after we eat we should get to work,” she said with a nod. “What do you want me to do in particular?”

“Help search the rooms for hidden panels leading to other spaces,” he said, tilting his had slightly. “And be there in case I need to do something using my powers. I get the feeling I may not be as prepared to take care of this as I had thought, so if I need to draw from something I would prefer it be you.”

“All right,” she said with a nod as she finished her tea and set her cup and saucer down. “I just hope you're successful.”

“I hope I am too,” he murmured before sipping more of his tea. This was going to be quite complicated, he realized, and he sincerely hoped he was up for the challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

When Evelyn came back to let them know that the cook would make them a meal Sherlock insisted that they be in the kitchen while it was prepared so they could talk to the cook. Evelyn agreed, and so she led the two of them to the kitchen. “Our cook's name is Marta," she said as she opened the door to the room. It was a large kitchen, with top of the line appliances. A woman was hard at work, moving around the island in the center of the room. She had had a stocky figure, and her hair was tucked under a white hat but strands had fallen out and Sherlock could see it was red. “Marta?” Evelyn said to get her attention.

Marta's head snapped up and she gave Molly and Sherlock a curious look. “Any reason they're in my kitchen, Ms. Blake?”

“They want to talk to you, about your experiences in the home,” she said. “Please answer any questions they might have.”

Marta nodded. “I will,” she replied.

Evelyn smiled at Sherlock and Molly. “Whatever else you need, let me know.”

“I'll need full access to all the rooms. Even yours,” Sherlock said. “And I want to talk to all of the staff as quickly as possible.”

Evelyn nodded. “I'll make sure that happens.” With that she turned and left, leaving the other three alone in the kitchen.

Marta went back to making their meal. “It's nothing fancy,” she said. “Your lunch, I mean. It's a sandwich and soup, but the bread is freshly baked and the soup is made from scratch.”

“That's fine,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“So what is it you want to know?” she asked. 

“How do you feel here most of the time?” he asked, moving towards an area where Marta wasn't moving around and looking at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her answer.

“For the most part I'm fine, but sometimes it feels like there's something waiting and it doesn't feel friendly,” she said as she began to put together the sandwiches. “I don't talk about it with the other staff, but I do feel it.”

“Why don't you talk about it?” Molly asked from over by Sherlock.

“Because there's no point. In the three months I've been here there's been nothing that's made it any better. And then it got worse the day the last butler left.”

“Were you here when it happened?” he asked.

She nodded. “I was staying late because I'd been helping come up with a menu for this party Ms. Blake is planning and just as I wrapped everything up I heard this organ music playing. I like my musicals and at first I thought someone was playing something from Phantom on a speaker somewhere. But it didn't sound like any of the music from Phantom, and the more I heard the more I wanted to get back home where it was safe. And then I came back the next day and Ogilvie was gone and I knew something had happened.” She looked up from the food. “Maybe he left on his own, maybe he didn't, but hearing that music that day made my blood run cold.”

“That's interesting,” Sherlock said as he looked at Molly. Then he turned back to Marta. “Is there anything you would suggest we look for, or people we talk to?”

“Mrs. Blyden is the one who's been here the longest,” she replied. “I think she was here when the last family was here as their housekeeper. The Blakes more or less inherited her from the sounds of it. Anything you really want to know she could probably tell you.” She paused. “Her son might also know a lot, but he's not all that pleasant. They tend to keep to themselves.”

“I'll keep that in mind when I talk to them,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Adriana is a skeptic. She doesn't believe in anything having to do with the supernatural, and she's viewing your entire visit with contempt. She doesn't think you're trying to fleece Ms. Blake but she thinks you have an ulterior motive for being here. She isn't going to want to talk to you.”

“Well, I need to talk to everyone so she doesn't have a choice,” he said.

She nodded. “I just hope you fix whatever the problem here is,” she said. “I don't care if it's a ghost or a curse or whatever. This place needs to be free of whatever it is that gives off that strange feeling.”

“I will do my best,” he replied.

“You two can eat in here at the table, if you want,” she said, nodding to a small table near the corner. “I'll probably ignore you so I can start prepping everything for supper.”

“That would be fine,” Molly said with a smile. “Thank you.” The two of them moved to the table and sat down. “I suppose we’re going to be looking for an organ,” she said when they were settled.

“I suppose so,” he said. “Ms. Blake said there wasn’t one in the music room, but I want to check there anyway. That would be a logical place for a hidden room.” He leaned back in the seat slightly. “We’ll talk to the Blydens first, then the personal assistant and the maid. I want to know if the house has always been like this, and Mrs. Blyden would know best.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t come fetch us when we were done unpacking,” Molly said. “Isn’t she supposed to?”

“This doesn’t seem to be a typical household when it comes to the staff,” he said. “They probably do all sorts of things differently. But typically we would be dealing with the butler, if they had one. He would be the one in charge.”

“I can’t imagine having so much money to have my own staff,” she said. “I would love to, one day, but I doubt that will ever happen. You don't make a lot of money as a specialist registrar.”

“You don't make very much money as a consulting detective either,” he said with a small grin. “But there is a lot of responsibility that comes with having this much money. I don't think either of us would ignore those responsibilities, so it might not be as enjoyable as we would imagine.”

“Probably not,” she said, returning his smile. “But it would be nice to dream big.”

“What would you do if you had more than enough money to do something you've always wanted to do?” he asked.

She tilted her head slightly as she thought. “I think I'd like to travel the world. Go to any place I felt like visiting. Take cruises to exotic destinations. And maybe own my own summer cottage as well. Not that I don't like my flat, but it would be nice to have an actual vacation home of my own.” Then she paused. “What about you? What would you like to do?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” he said. “I don't think I would stop doing what I do now, especially since if I continue to take the supernatural cases there is the chance I can reverse the curse on me. I may go to more places, though. Expand my reach outside of England. Though that might need to wait until I do what I was supposed to be doing after I fell off the roof.”

“Well, you knowing magic would probably help you do it much more quickly,” she said thoughtfully. “You wouldn't have to fly places or take a train. You could just cast a spell and pop up where you're needed. And you could get much faster results, I think.”

“I suppose I would,” he said with a nod. “Mostly I just want to make sure I've learned as many lessons as I can first. If I'm going to have the upper hand I want as much knowledge as I can get to give me the biggest advantage possible.”

“Well, when you do go you had best write to me. And call, too,” she said. “I'll worry about you very much if you don't.”

“I will do that, then,” he said with a nod. “I had planned on doing that while I was gone, letting you know I was still alive. I would have made sure you didn't have to worry too much.”

“I'm glad things didn't happen that way,” she said. “I mean, being cursed and getting magical powers and not being able to be killed were all unexpected, and I'm not sure if I'd be happy with all of that if I was in your shoes, but if you'd had to go it would have been hard on everyone. Mostly the others, but it would have been hard on me, too.”

“I know it would have been harder on you, though,” he said. “Having to lie to everyone all the time until I was able to come back. And then when I came back there was always the chance you would get in trouble for lying on official documents.”

“I think your brother would have stepped in to keep that from happening,” she said with a slightly wider smile. “This was a plan hatched up between all three of us. I doubt he would have thrown me under the bus when it came out that you really were alive.”

“This is Mycroft we're talking about,” he replied. “You never know with him.”

“Well, I'd have made his life hell if I'd lost my post over it,” she said.

“I don't doubt you would have,” he said with a chuckle. “And I think I would have enjoyed watching that.”

“Then I'm doubly glad things went differently now.” She was going to say more but Marta arrived with food for them. They had turkey sandwiches and a creamy cheesy soup set down in front of each of them, and Molly looked up at Marta with a wide smile. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Shaw.”

“Call me Marta,” she said with a smile. “I get enough of the formality from Mrs. Blyden and everyone else. If you need anything else, let me know. Supper will be ready at five, and served in the dining room. I hope neither of you have a problem with roast.”

Both Sherlock and Molly shook their heads. “It's a better meal than I usually have,” Sherlock said, picking up the spoon on his plate and having some of the soup. “This is an excellent soup.”

“Well, if you really like it I might be inclined to share the recipe,” she said with a slight chuckle. “It was left here by the old cook. I found that rather surprising, actually. All the recipes were written down in a book and it looked as though he'd just up and left it.” Then she nodded towards the stove. “I'll let you two eat. I have two separate meals to make today, since Mrs. Blyden and her son have things they won't eat.”

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you, Marta.” He watched her go back to the food she was preparing and then turned to Molly. “That's an interesting tidbit. Most cooks wouldn't leave a book full of handwritten recipes if they simply left.”

“I thought the same thing,” she said before taking a bite of her sandwich. When she was done chewing she looked at him. “Do you think they're not actually leaving the premises?”

“That could be a possibility,” he said. He looked down at his food. “We should eat quickly and then talk to the Blydens. I want to know as much about this home as I possibly can.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. They began to concentrate on their food, and when they were done Marta told them to put the dishes in the sink and she would get to them later. They left the kitchen at that point and they made their way to the staff's quarters. “Do you think they're ready to talk to us?” she asked.

“If they aren't that's too bad,” he replied. “The first order of business is to find Mrs. Blyden. Marta said if she wasn't actively working she'd be in her room, first one on the left.” They got to the staff's quarters and he walked up to the first door on the left, knocking after a moment. “Mrs. Blyden?” he asked.

 “Give me a moment,” she replied. Three minutes later the door opened and she looked at them with a smile. “Mr. Holmes. Ms. Hooper. I was told you'd want to speak to me. How may I help you?”

“We were told you would have the most knowledge about this home,” he said.

She nodded. “I've been the housekeeper here for the last five years,” she said. “I came in under the employ of the Daniels family and when Mr. Blake bought this home he kept me on staff.”

“Have you felt the same things the others have?” he asked her. “The sense that there is something malevolent in the home?”

“No, I haven't,” she said. “I mean, I'll admit there are times I'm a bit spooked when it's dark, but that's because this is an old home and it creaks and groans as an old home should. But thinking there's some sort of thing inhabiting the home that means to do us harm? I think that's bollocks. But I suppose everyone has the right to think what they please. So long as it doesn't interfere with the work they do here I don't comment on their beliefs one way or another.”

Sherlock nodded. “What is the average turnover for staff here?”

“We've lost people more frequently than I would like since Ms. Blake's father died,” she said. “I do run a tight ship and some people just don't want to comply with the rules for a proper household. They leave and as I'm able I replace them with others.” She paused. “We're in the process of interviewing for a new butler now. In fact, I need to talk to the newest candidate in ten minutes. So I'm sorry if I can't talk more.”

“I need to search your room,” he said.

"What exactly are you looking for?” she asked, her jaw a bit more rigid than before.

“Secret passages and hidden rooms, mostly,” he said.

“Oh, that I can show you easily enough,” she said. She motioned for them to come in and then went to a full length mirror that was on her wall. She pushed in a small circle on the corner and there was a pop, and then the mirror came away from the wall. “You're more than welcome to follow that. It goes to the study.”

“Are there many hidden passageways in the home?” Molly asked.

“At least twenty,” she said. “If you are willing to wait until after I'm done with my interview I can show you where all of the ones I know of are.”

Sherlock shook his head. “I'd prefer to search on my own.”

“Well, then feel free to search along the walls for any more. But leave my personal belongings alone.” She moved away from the mirror. “If you'll excuse me.”

Sherlock and Molly turned to watch her leave the room. “She seems a bit abrupt,” Molly said when she'd shut the door behind her.

“The best housekeepers usually are,” he murmured, looking at the hallway behind the mirror. “Let's explore the room and then follow this hallway to the study.”

“What about talking to the rest of the staff?” she asked.

“I'd like to see where the hallway leads exactly,” he replied. He moved away from the mirror and searched the room extensively, occasionally asking Molly to help him. They did leave the majority of Mrs. Blyden's belongings alone, as was requested. Finally he felt they'd searched enough, and so he moved back to the mirror and pulled his pocket torch out of his suit pocket. “Let's go inside.”

“All right,” Molly said, following him in a moment later when he stepped inside. He shined the torch in front of them and to the side. Occasionally the path split and he made note of those places to look later, but finally the main path ended. He saw a small depression in the wall and then pushed. The study was much brighter than the hallway had been, and he blinked a moment as his eyes adjusted. Molly stepped out from behind him and they looked around. “This is a very nice room,” she said.

Sherlock nodded and began to look around. He had only been looking at the room in earnest for a few minutes when the door opened and Evelyn's personal assistant came in. “I thought you were speaking with the staff,” she said in a clipped tone.

"We followed a secret passageway here from Mrs. Blyden's room,” Sherlock said, straightening up. “We'll be exploring each room eventually, looking for more hidden rooms and passageways.”

“Maravilloso. Ahora los demás pensarán que esta casa es aún más embujada,” she murmured.

“Te voy a sacar primero antes de entrar en una habitación si usted piense que va a marcar la diferencia,” Sherlock said in response.

Adriana blinked. “You know Spanish,” she said.

 “I speak it fluently, though my accent is strange,” he said with a slight shrug.

“What were you two saying?” Molly asked curiously.

“I said that the others would think the house was haunted even more now, and Mr. Holmes said he would knock before entering a room if I thought that would help,” she replied. “And you're right. Your accent makes it very strange to hear you speak my native language.”

“Where are you from?” Molly asked.

“Mexico. Specifically Puerto Vallarta,” she replied. “I lived there from birth until I was fourteen. My father was British and my mother was Mexican, and when I was a teenager it was decided we would move to London. I grew to love this country just as much as I loved Mexico, actually.” She went over to the desk. “I suppose you have questions for me that you want answers to. You may as well ask them.”

“You don't believe there is anything wrong with the home,” he said.

“No, I do not,” she said, sitting down in the chair and turning to face them. “I don't believe in anything related to the supernatural.”

“So you've had none of the same feelings your employer has had?” he asked.

“No, I have not,” she replied. “I may scoff at it, but that's because I'm a skeptic. Ms. Blake believes you can do something here and while I don't agree I will say that any relief it brings to her will be good. As time has gone on and she's become more convinced that there's something evil here it's worn on her. She's become withdrawn and quiet, which is very different than how she was when I became her personal assistant.”

“And how long ago was that?” Sherlock asked.

“Three years ago,” she said. “Her father became an acquaintance of my father and he suggested me for the position when it opened up.”

“What was she like before?” Molly asked.

“Very warm and caring,” Adriana said. “She laughed more and was more...open with her feelings. Once her father died she closed herself off, bit by bit. I had hoped she would go back to normal once she was done grieving, but that hasn't happened yet.” She turned away from them and opened a drawer in the desk. “I have work I need to do. You may search any room in the home, but try not to disturb things too much.”

“I will do my best,” Sherlock said. “Where can I find Mrs. Blyden's son?”

“Most likely working in the gardens. He's been hired on as a gardener until we can replace the one who left.”

“Did he leave abruptly?” Molly ask.

“You mean like the others?” she said before shaking her head. “No. He injured himself and upon recuperation decided he wanted to retire. He left a month ago, and Jamie arrived a week after that. Ms. Blake wants the grounds to look tidy for the party so he's been hard at work making sure they're up to par.”

“Then we'll leave you in peace,” he said. He looked at Molly and nodded towards the door. They both moved towards it and then stepped out into the hallway. “I don't think we will make much progress searching the rooms until after supper.”

“Because people are using them?” she asked.

He nodded. “If we look more intensively later in the evening we might have a better chance of having privacy. But for now we'll talk to Jamie Blyden and then search in the rooms that are empty.”

“Then I suppose we should go out to the gardens,” she said. “They're at the back of the house, right?”

“Yes. I would imagine there will be one room with exits. Most likely a ballroom, as I would think a crush of people would want a place to go to clear their heads and escape the crowd.” He began walking down the hallway. “Let's see if I'm right.”

They began to walk down the hallway when they saw a man approaching them. He had on a white shirt that had dirt on it, and his khaki trousers had grass stains on them. He stared at the two of them for a moment before brushing his dark hair out of his face. “You must be the bloke from London Ms. Blake hired,” he said as Sherlock and Molly approached him.

Sherlock nodded. “I'm Sherlock Holmes, and this is Molly Hooper.”

Jamie nodded towards them. “I'd offer my hand but it's dirty. Can't do much actual gardening work with gloves on.” He looked over at Molly, as though he was sizing her up slightly. Sherlock found himself irritated by that, an irritation that grew when his gaze lingered. Then he turned back to Sherlock. “My mum said I'm supposed to help by answering questions. What do you want to know?”

“Have you felt at all unnerved being here?” he asked.

“You mean the weird feeling Ms. Blake and Anjanette have? Can't say that I have,” he said. “Guess I'm just less sensitive to it than they are.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said. “Have you been here before this recent visit?”

“I visited my mum here a lot,” he said. “I know this place almost as well as I know my own home.”

"That's a lot of freedom for a visitor to have,” Sherlock said.

“My mum was like part of the family,” she said. “And I helped quite often, when I was between terms in university. Did all sorts of odd jobs that needed to be done.”

“Why are you here now?” he asked.

“Ms. Blake needed help with the property. She pays well, and I don't have anything else going on, so I figured why not.” He turned back to Molly for a moment, and Sherlock could feel her edge closer to him. “I can answer more questions, but after my break. It's a bit hot outside and I need a cold glass of water. Unless you want to join me?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I think I've gotten all I needed for now.”

“All right. Then I'll see both of you later.” He made his way around them and Sherlock turned, watching him leave.

“I don't like him,” Molly said quietly.

Sherlock kept his attention on Jamie's retreating figure. He had gotten a sense that something was...off, he supposed. There was something about Jamie that didn't seem quite right, and he didn't like that feeling. “I don't either,” he murmured. Then he turned back to Molly. “Let's start examining the rooms. I get the feeling we're in for a long few days.”

“I think we are too,” she said. Sherlock moved down the hallway again and they made their way down it. As they walked to the back of the home he kept thinking about his reaction to Jamie. He was the only person he'd felt anything like that towards since he got here, and he was quite curious to find out why.


	3. Chapter 3

They searched as thoroughly as they could the rest of the day, only taking a break for supper, and around eleven they decided to call it a night, each going to their room to sleep. He woke up early the next morning and woke Molly up a short time later, and they continued to thoroughly search the home, this time focusing on the hidden passages he had found the day before. Sherlock found six other hidden panels that lead into the adjoining rooms and one passage that lead from the parlor into the greenhouse on the other side of the home, but as Mrs. Blyden had said there were at least twenty he knew he was missing some. It grated on his nerves.

He could sense that whatever he was looking for was in the south end of the home, but he decided to go over the entire home to be sure. By the time supper was over their second night there they had one room left to search, and so he made his way to the billiards room with Molly behind him. “If we don't find what we're looking for here what are we going to do?” she asked as they got closer to the room.

“We'll go back to the southern end of the home and look more thoroughly,” he replied. “I can feel it in that general area.”

They got to the door of the billiards room and she paused outside of it. “Are we still looking for an organ?” 

“Yes,” he said. “The fact that organ music was heard each time before someone died or disappeared leads me to believe that whatever it is that's doing this is inhabiting an organ.” He nodded towards the room. “Hopefully we will be luckier here.”

“Hopefully,” she said. 

He put his hand on the knob and twisted it to open the door, and the minute he opened it he realized it was going to be harder to search in this room because they weren't in it alone. Jamie was in the room, playing a game of billiards by himself. Music was blaring from a small set of speakers, and it was some type of angry harsh sounding rock. He glanced up at the two of them as they entered, and Sherlock could see Molly stiffen up slightly. Sherlock nodded towards him. “Blyden,” he said.

“Any chance I can finish my game before you boot me out?” he asked, moving over to the small table near the wall. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey and a glass that was nearly empty. “Got to have some place in this home where I can relax.”

“By all means, finish your game,” Sherlock said. “We can do a cursory examination of the room while you're here.”

He picked up his glass and took a sip. “Do you seriously think that Ms. Blake is all there in the head? I mean, talk of things in this house wanting to do harm makes it sound like she's a bit mental.”

“I think, regardless of whether it's true or not, she feels strongly enough about it to want to make sure her home is not in fact haunted,” Sherlock said, beginning to move around the room. He wasn't going to open any hidden panels he might find while Jamie was in the room, but he could still search for them. He turned his back on Jamie as he began to look.

“Well, she must be paying you to lie through your teeth, then. It's all a bunch of lies, this supernatural stuff. People just trying to make a mint off those gullible enough to throw their money away.”

He could tell Jamie was deep in his cups at the moment, and he would be quite a bit more honest now than he had been the day before. “Are you implying I'm a fraud?” Sherlock asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Well, not for the regular consulting stuff. I mean, there's a reason the whole world thinks you're a genius. But this stuff? I think it's just a way for you to make more money.”

“And yet I seem to have a very good track record solving strange cases,” he murmured. “That's a matter of public record, by the way. This entire side of my business as a consulting detective is done by word of mouth. If there were not people satisfied with my services they would not refer me to others.”

“Well, you're a weird one,” he said, and only then did Sherlock turn around. He watched Jamie shrug and then pour himself more whiskey. 

“I would appreciate it if you would finish your game quickly,” Sherlock said in an annoyed tone. “I have work to do, unimportant to you as it may seem.”

“I don't have to rush on anyone's account,” he said before drinking some of the whiskey. “Certainly not yours.”

“Then I'll simply tell Ms. Blake that you are impeding my investigation,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I can't imagine she'll be pleased to hear that.”

Jamie glared at him, then drank the rest of the whiskey. “If you're going to be an arse about it then I'll just come back when you're gone,” he said. He put the glass back down with more force than was necessary and then made his way to the door, walking behind Molly. When he got close she took a step away from him. “Don't touch my game.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. Jamie left the room then and he looked over at Molly. She had a look on her face he couldn't quite register, and he frowned. “Are you all right?”

“He makes me uncomfortable,” Molly said after a moment.

“Any particular reason?” he asked.

“The way he leered at me when he wasn't looking at you, yesterday and today,” she said. “He was sizing me up. I didn't like that. And then he let his hand brush against my arse. If think if I hadn't moved he would have given it a squeeze.”

He looked at her as he felt an irrational surge of anger. If the man attempted to do anything that would hurt Molly so help him he would regret it. And not only would he regret it but Sherlock would make sure he regretted it for the rest of his life. He went over to Molly and placed his hands on her shoulders as he stood in front of her. “If he makes any move towards you tell me and I will deal with it.”

“All right,” she said as she nodded. He dropped his hands and she gave him a small smile in response. “Come on. Let's search this room while he's gone. I don't think I want to be here when he comes back.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Sherlock said with a nod of his own. They began to search every inch of the room, but there were no secret panels hidden in the walls or floor. After forty minutes he sighed. “Another dead end.”

“Well, you can sense it in the south end of the building,” she said. “This is the east end, so it makes sense we didn't find anything.”

“I had hoped we'd have better luck, though,” he said. He went to the billiard table and began rolling each ball so it was in a pocket.

“That's childish, Sherlock,” she said with a chuckle.

“He grates on my nerves,” he replied. When he was done he looked at her. “I suppose we should attempt to get some sleep. I want to start early tomorrow and look out at the grounds. It's possible the entrance we're looking for isn't in the home at all.”

“I hadn't even thought about that,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “How early do we want to wake up?”

“Perhaps seven. Mrs. Shaw said she is up then beginning to prepare the meals for the day, and I'm sure we can get some sort of breakfast for ourselves then.”

“Then I'll set my alarm for six thirty.” They moved over to the billiards room door and walked out of it, heading towards the stairs in a companionable silence. Once they were outside of her bedroom she yawned. “I suppose I should get some sleep now. It's been a long day.” She hesitated a moment and then leaned in and kissed his cheek hesitantly. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night,” he said, his eyes slightly wide. He watched her turn and go into her room, and he waited for her to lock it behind her. He went to his own room and got ready to go to sleep, but once he finally got into bed he laid there and stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts revolved around trying to figure out exactly what he was feeling about Molly. Feeling upset that a tosser was making her uncomfortable was a normal reaction, because he cared about Molly and didn't want anyone to hurt her. Wanting to severely hurt him in a way that would make him regret ever focusing his attention on her, however, was _not_ a normal reaction. And plotting out myriad ways to do that both with and without magic made him feel as though he should probably be very concerned that he was not a very nice person, not that he had ever really been one before.

He didn't know how long he had been lying in bed concentrating on his thoughts when he heard a thud and a muffled shriek from Molly's room. He didn't even bother going to the door; Merlin had taught him the spell to transport himself from one place to another instantaneously fairly early on in the course of their lessons and the minute his feet were on the ground he cast it, landing a foot away from her bed. He saw her struggling on the bed with Jamie on top of her and he saw red. He moved over to the bed and pulled him off of her. He stared at Sherlock for a split second before Sherlock cast a spell to make sure it hurt and then punched him across the face. He fell to the ground and Sherlock stepped over him to get to Molly. She'd moved up on the bed, and he could see her pyjama top had been ripped and she was trying to cover herself. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She was crying and shaking her head. “No. I woke up and he was here and he was...and he...” She shut her eyes and she couldn't get any more out. He moved closer to her, sitting on her bed, and he hesitantly put an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened for just a moment before she clung to him, sobbing into the crook of his neck. He could hear the man whose fault this was groan and he pulled away just slightly to do the transportation spell, sending Jamie into the fountain at the front of the house. If he drowned, so be it. Then he went back to comforting Molly. After a few minutes she pulled away and looked at him. “I can't...I can't be in here,” she said.

“Do you have something else to sleep in?” he asked. She shook her head. “If you don't mind it being a button down shirt I brought an extra one that you may use. It should fit you. You can sleep in my bed and I'll stay awake to make sure he doesn't get any more ideas.”

“Okay,” she said. He pulled away from her completely and she tried to hold the front of her top together as she got out of the bed. He decided instead of having her leave the bedroom and go out into the hall and wait until he did a spell to unlock his door or try and find the hidden panels in the dark he'd simply do the transportation spell again. He put his hand on her shoulder and cast it, and the two of them were instantly in his room. He moved away and went to his dresser, pulling out his spare shirt. It was the purple one, and he remembered Molly had once remarked that was her favorite shirt of his. He turned around and saw she was sitting on the bed, and he went and handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You're welcome,” he said. “I'll give you some privacy while I go have words with Jamie.”

“Don't do anything that will get you in trouble!” she said, her eyes wide.

“I'm just going to encourage him to never do this again, to you or anyone else,” he said. “I'll leave the door locked for now and just do the spell to leave and come back.”

“All right,” she said with a nod.

He moved away from her and cast the spell, landing in the foyer. He walked to the door and opened it, seeing Jamie on his way to the front door. When he saw Sherlock was leaning in the doorway he glared. “You took away my fun.”

Sherlock felt his blood boil at that. “If you look at that as fun I think you need to reevaluate your definition of the term,” Sherlock said. “You made a grave mistake in going after her.”

“It's not like you were making a move. Bet you've thought about it, though. Having a go with her?” He smirked. “I just had the brass ones to do it.”

“After I'm assuming you took your mother's keys and let yourself into her bedroom and attempted to have your way with her while she was asleep. That's not 'brass ones.' That's plotting to do great harm to someone without any care that you'd hurt them. I may be an arse to most people in the world but I at least won't stoop to those levels.” He moved away from the door. “You're going to leave and you're going to never come back. If your mother still has her post in the morning I would be greatly surprised, so there will most likely be no reason for you to step foot on this property. And you're going to do it without saying one word to Molly.”

“Like you can make me,” he scoffed.

Sherlock stared at him incredulously. “Have you not realized that you're not by the foot of her bed anymore? That you are outside and until a few moments ago you were in a fountain? Have you seriously not considered how that happened?”

“You dumped me here,” he said. “I've been out for a while.”

Sherlock shook his head. The man really was an imbecile. “It's been ten minutes, if even that. Check your watch if you don't believe me.”

Jamie lifted up his wrist. “It's dead.”

“Then I'll tell you it's been...” Sherlock lifted up his own wrist and glanced at his watch. “Seven minutes since I pulled you off of her.”

It finally appeared to sink into Jamie's head that there was more to Sherlock than he thought. “That's not possible,” he said.

“It is if you know magic,” Sherlock said, moving outside more. “And since I'm a wizard that's rather my specialty.”

“Bollocks,” he said.

Sherlock looked at him and decided enough was enough. He cast the spell to make Jamie stiffen up like a board and be completely immobile. His arms snapped to the side and he straightened up completely. “As I said,” Sherlock said as he advanced on the man. “You will leave this home, and you will do so quickly. Gather your things and walk back to the village. And when I explain to Ms. Blake exactly what happened tonight and your mother is turned out without a reference, make sure you explain in great detail to your mother why you thought it would be a good idea to assault one of the guests, because I am sure she will _love_ to hear that.” He moved out of the way and cast the spell for him to get his movement back. “You have ten minutes.”

Jamie stared at him with wide eyes, then slowly moved around Sherlock, not taking his eyes off of him. When he finally got to the front door he bolted towards the servant's quarters. Sherlock decided to make sure he didn't take any detours so he cast the transportation spell one more time and was waiting outside when he got there. Jamie turned white as a sheet and quickly went into the room. He began opening bags and tossing things in without folding them. He was done five minutes later and he quickly grabbed his bags and made his way to where Sherlock was standing, staring at him with wide eyes before he made his way back to the front of the house. Sherlock didn't bother doing the spell this time, simply walking behind him. Once he got to the still open front door he stepped outside and Sherlock watched him head towards the gate. As he retreated he cast one last spell towards Jamie's back, essentially guaranteeing he would never repeat his actions tonight ever again. Once he was satisfied Jamie would not turn around he shut the door behind him.

He debated for a moment going back to Molly but this was an important matter and needed to be brought to Evelyn's attention immediately. He made his way up the stairs and went to the master bedroom before knocking on the door. He waited for a few moments before it opened and Evelyn stood there, looking at him with a confused look on her face. “Mr. Holmes? Is everything all right?”

Sherlock shook his head. “There was an incident. Mrs. Blyden's son decided to let himself into my associate's room and tried to force himself upon her.”

Evelyn's eyes widened and she put her hands over her mouth. “Is she all right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. She is in my room now, and she will remain there for the rest of the night. He's off the premises and he knows he is never to return. But as this is your home and it affects a member of your staff I felt you should know now.”

“Of course,” she said, lowering her hands. “I'll make sure that things are taken care of in the morning.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I'll let you get back to bed now.” He turned and as soon as he heard the door shut again he used the spell one last time and deposited himself back into his bedroom. Molly was sitting up in the bed, her knees bent and her arms around them. He moved closer to her and she let go of her legs. “He's gone.”

“Good,” she said quietly.

“We can see if John can come here and you can go home, if it will be too hard for you to be here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I think I can stay, but I can't go back in that room,” she said. “I mean, I don't even think I can go back to get my things.”

“Do you want to take this room?” he asked. “I can go get your things in the morning and bring them in here.”

She nodded slowly. “I think that would be a good idea,” she said. “But I don't want to be alone.”

“I can sleep on the settee, then,” he said.

“You can sleep on the other side of the bed,” she said after a moment's hesitation. “I mean, I know the settee's not going to be as comfortable as the bed.”

“But after what just happened--” he began, but she shook her head and he stopped.

“He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to force himself on me. I can't see you doing either of those things, ever. And it's not just that it's more comfortable for you. I would feel better knowing you were close.” She looked down. “It probably doesn't make any sense, but it would help.”

“It makes sense,” he said quietly. “If you're sure, then I'll sleep on the other side of the bed tonight.”

She nodded. “I'm sure.” He got off the bed and then went to the other side of it, pulling back the bedding and then getting in. He watched her lay down in the bed and curl up on her side, facing him. After a moment she stretched out her hand towards the middle of the bed and he reached over and grasped it. She squeezed it once but didn't let go. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, Molly,” he said quietly. He watched her shut her eyes and continued to watch as she went back to sleep, and it was only when he was absolutely certain that she was asleep that he let go of her hand and attempted to get some sleep himself. He sincerely hoped that there were no long lasting ill effects because of what happened, but if there were he vowed to be there for her however she needed him to be for as long as she needed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock woke up in the bed a few hours later, slowly realizing that somehow during the night he and Molly had migrated from opposite ends of the bed to somewhere in the middle while they had slept. Molly was still facing him, but she was mere inches away from him now. He looked at her for a while, simply watching her sleep. She looked peaceful at the moment, as though last night had never happened and she was asleep in her own bed, feeling safe and secure. He felt himself begin to get angry that she had been attacked and even though he knew he had guaranteed Jamie Blyden would never attempt to do anything like that again he felt he hadn't gone far enough. He wanted to make him feel a fraction of the fear that he had seen in Molly's eyes every waking minute of every day, but he knew if he did that than that would make him just as bad as Jamie was. He had power and if he abused it than he was no better.

He calmed himself down and after a moment rolled over to his back and then over to his other side so he could get out of bed without waking her. He slowly got out of the bed and then made his way toward the dresser to get a shirt and a pair of trousers. He had just closed the drawer, clothing in hand, when he heard the bed creak, and he turned to see Molly stretching in the bed. “I was trying to let you sleep,” he said.

“I know,” she said as she sat up. “But I was already kind of waking up.”

“I'll take my clothing into your room and change before I bring your belongings in here,” he said. “Then I'll give you privacy to change.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. He got the clothing situated and then made his way to the door. “Sherlock?” she asked when he had his hand hovering over the knob.

“Yes?” he asked, turning back to look at her.

He could see her struggling to figure out what to ask. “Did you...do...anything to him before he left?”

He nodded slowly. “I immobilized him while I ran down exactly what he was going to do before he left. And I may have ensured he never repeats his actions last night towards any other female.”

“How?” she asked.

“If he ever attempts to be aggressive with a woman, which I imagine is the only way he can get aroused, he'll be unable to perform. And if he attempts to be violent with a woman due to his own impotence he'll end up standing at the foot of his own bed completely immobilized until the urge to do something violent has passed.” He paused. “If he is in an immobilized state he won't starve or die due to lack of sleep. His entire body will be in a state of stasis until the aggressive state passes. But it will happen every time.”

“Good,” she said with a nod. “I mean, I'm glad he'll get a taste of powerlessness but I'm also glad he won't die if he's a stubborn git. That would be too good for him.”

“I had thought you might feel that way,” he said with a faint smile. He lifted up his clothing. “Let me change my clothing and then I will bring your belongings over.”

“All right,” she said.

He opened the door and then made his way to her bedroom. He opened the door and then stared in surprise as he saw Anjanette repacking Molly's belongings with care. She looked different, as she was not in her maid's uniform, instead wearing a crisp white blouse and a black skirt. “Hello,” he said slowly.

“Monsieur Holmes!” she said, jumping slightly. “I am so sorry. Mademoiselle Blake thought that since Mademoiselle Hooper was staying in your room that she might not want to return here to get her belongings. I was putting them away for her until we were told what was to be done with them.”

“It's all right,” he said, slightly relieved. He gathered there were things Molly had brought that she might have been embarrassed for him to see, so this neatly solved that problem. He moved over towards the bed. “Are you almost done?”

“I just need to get the things she has hanging up,” Anjanette said. “Will she be remaining in the home?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes. She and I will be sharing my room for the duration of our stay, though.”

“That is good,” she replied with a nod. “Mademoiselle Hooper is a very sweet woman, and I was quite angered by what happened.”

“He never attempted to do that to you?” he asked.

“I have too much confidence for him. No offense meant to Mademoiselle Hooper, but he did not find me weak enough.”

“The fact that you're not attracted to men probably helped matters as well,” he pointed out.

She looked shocked at that. “How did you know?” she asked.

“There was a look you shared with Ms. Valarde the day we arrived, when you had taken us to the parlor and Ms. Blake had sent her away to talk to us privately. I imagine shortly thereafter the two of you had an unexpected afternoon tryst.”

She flushed at that. “Your skills at deduction are quite magnificent,” she said.

He was quiet a moment. “Does your employer know?”

Anjanette nodded slowly. “Yes, she does. I think she does not completely approve, but she values both of our services too much to object openly. But we are very discreet about things. We do not flaunt our relationship in public because it is not proper to. When we are given our free days we can be a bit more open about it, though never in the village. There would be too much talk.” She closed the lid on the suitcase and then moved to where Molly's clothes were hanging. “I will take these to her now.”

“Thank you,” he said. Then he paused. “I take it Mrs. Blyden's been let go?”

Anjanette nodded. “Mademoiselle Blake was kind enough to give her a reference but yes, she is no longer employed by Mademoiselle Blake. I have been promoted to her position for the moment as we prepare for the party. If I impress Mademoiselle Blake she has said the job will remain mine.” She reached for the clothing and then draped it over her arm. “If you will excuse me, Monsieur Holmes.”

He moved out of the way and waited for Anjanette to leave the room, and then he quickly changed into his own clothing. He waited in the room for ten minutes, then left and made his way back to his room, knocking on the door. “Are you decent?” he asked.

“Yes,” Molly called back. He opened the door and made his way in, seeing Molly smoothing down the front of her dress. “Anjanette told me that she packed it for me.”

He nodded. “I gather you appreciate that?”

“I did,” she said with a smile. “I'm rather glad you didn't see any of my unmentionables. And Anjanette is going to see if Evelyn will loan me a nightgown if we need to stay tonight as well, so that I don't have to sleep in your shirt again.”

“That is very good to hear,” he replied.

“Did she really let Mrs. Blyden go?” she asked, looking at him. “I mean, it wasn't her fault.”

“Well, she was the one who brought her son onto the property, so in a way that does make her responsible for him being here in the first place,” he said. “The fact she got a reference was the best possible outcome the situation could have had for her.”

“I feel bad for that,” she said.

“You shouldn't,” he said, coming over to her. “You shouldn't feel bad about anything that happened in the aftermath of last night.”

“But I still do,” she said. “Not about what happened to him, but more about what happened to her. She wasn't at fault.”

He bit his tongue. There was quite a bit he wanted to say on the subject, about how it was certainly Mrs. Blyden's fault that her son turned into the type of man who would attempt to sexually assault a woman and how he wouldn't even have given the woman a reference, but he knew she wasn't going to agree with him. “Then that just shows you're a better person than I am,” he said finally.

“I suppose,” she said. Then she gave him a small smile. “Do we want to see if there's breakfast available?”

“That would be a good idea,” he said with a nod. He motioned for her to walk in front of him, and she made her way to the door with him right behind her. They went down the stairs and went into the kitchen. Marta looked up at them and then nodded, giving Molly a sympathetic smile. “Hello, Marta,” he said.

“Hello, Sherlock.” She nodded towards the stove. “Anjanette said both of you were awake so I figured I would make you breakfast that wasn’t simply cereal. I've got sausage cooking and I'll make eggs to order. Toast you get to make on your own.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, giving her a smile back.

“You’re welcome,” she said, nodding before turning back to the food. “You know, I never did trust him. Never really trusted his mum, either.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked, moving over to where there was coffee. He could see two mugs in front of the pot. “Why is that?”

“She tried very hard to get me to move in here when I agreed to take the position but I like my cottage just fine, thank you,” Marta said, going to the sausage and checking it. “I don't need a small room in the servant's quarters when I have three bedrooms and a sitting room and kitchen of my own at home. She must have wanted me living here for some nefarious reason. I imagine it would make it easier to make me mysteriously disappear.”

“So that's what you think happened to the other members of the staff?” he asked.

“Since you arrived I've been thinking about it pretty heavily, and Anjanette and I were discussing it yesterday,” she said. “There wasn't any way they could have left without being seen. The only way they could have left the village was if someone had called a cab all the way out here or they had come back down to the village, because Ms. Blake doesn't have any cars on the property. Unless everyone walked all the way to London then they simply disappeared, because no one in the village saw people or cabs come up here.” She paused when she was done. “I'm especially thankful I've kept my own home now. Didn't want to end up like the rest of them. And hopefully none of the people brought in for the party will go missing.”

“How many people will be here tomorrow to work?” he asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Between people helping the guests, making the food and serving the food? Around forty, I think. Most of them are coming from London, but if they spent any time in the village before tomorrow night I don't know how many of them are _actually_ going to show up. Most people think this place is cursed.” She took the sausages off the heat. “I'm honestly surprised people have agreed to come to the home to work at the party at all, to be honest. I had to talk Mrs. Blyden into doubling wages to get enough people to come in and help prepare and then cook the food. No one wants anything to do with this place.”

“With a reputation like the one this home has I'm not surprised,” Sherlock said as Molly came to pour her own coffee. He went to the sugar and then added two spoonfuls to his. 

“Hopefully you can fix that soon enough,” she replied. “I think Ms. Blake can do with a proper household staff here, even if it is just her living here. It's too much work for one person in each position. I know I need an assistant, and we desperately need a butler and at least two maids, now that Anjanette's the housekeeper. So the sooner you fix the problem the better.”

“I will do my best,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“Now then. Let's chat about something else, shall we?” Marta said, going to the carton of eggs on the counter. “Something that isn't so dour.”

“What type of party is it going to be?” Molly asked.

“1920s themed. High style, too. The men will be in tuxedos and the women will all be in those gorgeous flapper type dresses. Ms. Blake's son loves that era and he was really excited for it.”

“Oh, that's going to be lovely,” she replied with a smile.

“Even if you do get the problem fixed before tonight, I think Ms. Blake wouldn't mind if you stay for it,” Marta said thoughtfully. “I mean, if you fix the problem today she's going to want to introduce you to all the right people. And if you don't, that gives you another day to work on it and a night to enjoy yourself.”

“Let's see what progress I can make on it today,” he said. He took a sip of his coffee “What I'm looking for is in the south end of the building. Do you have any suggestions of where I should look harder?”

Marta thought for a moment. “South part of the grounds has the gazebo,” she said. “I mean, I don't think you're going to find an organ out there, but if you haven't been on the grounds yet I'd look there first.”

“Then we'll start there after we eat,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“How do you take your eggs?” Marta asked.

“Scrambled,” Molly said.

“Over easy,” Sherlock replied.

“I'll bring the food to the table for you,” she said. “I'll even be nice and make the toast.”

“Thank you, Marta,” Molly said. She and Sherlock took their coffee and made their way to the table in the corner, sitting across from each other. Molly took a sip of her coffee. “What do you hope to find on the grounds?” she asked.

“Perhaps a hidden entrance to the home,” he said. “I'm not quite sure.”

“Have you tried using magic to locate the organ?” she asked.

He nodded. “The best I can get is it's somewhere in the southern part of the home. It's very well hidden, no matter where it is. And it's magically protected, too.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I want to see if perhaps there are ghosts I can interact in the gardens. Specifically Ms. Blake’s father, if he’s there.”

“You think his death was suspicious?” she asked.

He nodded. “There is always the chance it could be that he heard the organ music and that was what caused the heart attack since it seems to give off a strange vibe to those who hear it, but I doubt that is the case. And if his death was caused by whatever it is that is taking the staff then I may be able to get some information from him, if his ghost is here.”

“Are you going to speak to him, or see if you can see his death?”

“Both, if he will allow me.” He watched her have some of her coffee. “But it all hinges on if he’s even there. If he isn’t a ghost then I’m at a dead end in that avenue of investigation.”

“As much as I hate to say it, because it must be torture for him if he is here, I hope we can find him.”

“I hope we can too,” he said. They drank their coffee in silence after that, and then they were served their breakfast. They made plan as they ate, and then when they were finished they made their way to the servants area. There was an exit to the gardens there, presumably for the gardening staff to enter and exit without being seen. They stepped outside into the garden and while it was the beginning of spring and while it was warmer than usual there was still a touch of cold. He could see Molly taking it in and a small smile came to his face. Even after what happened the night before she was able to enjoy something about the home. He had known she was resilient but he was glad to see just how much. After watching her for a few minutes he spoke. “It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s absolutely lovely,” she said with a smile. “I could spend so much time here.”

“We may have to do just that,” he said. “There is a lot of ground to cover here, and I don’t see the gazebo.”

“Well, let’s start looking for that,” she said, moving down the pathway that led to the center of the garden. He followed, using his magical senses to see if anything was amiss. He couldn’t tell specifics, but it didn’t feel any different than it had inside the home. After a half hour of following various paths in what he had realized was a maze of sorts they arrived at the gazebo and he smiled. There was a ghost there sitting on the bench, and based on photographs he had seen in the home he was fairly sure it was Evelyn’s father. Molly stopped looking at the gazebo and turned to Sherlock. “Is he here?”

“I believe so,” he said, approaching the gazebo. Then he went up the steps and stood near the ghost. “Are you Mr. Blake?” The ghost looked up at him but said nothing. He had a look of terror in his eyes, as though he had seen something that had scared the life out of him. Sherlock moved closer and extended his magical senses. Something was different. This ghost had been cursed. No matter what he asked, it would not respond. This posed a problem because he would not be able to get answers unless he was able to see how he had died. 

“Is something wrong?” Molly asked, moving towards the stairs of the gazebo.

“He’s been cursed,” Sherlock said. “He isn’t allowed to speak.” Then he turned towards her. “I may need you to be a tether. I want to see if I can see his death.”

She nodded and made her way up to him. When she got closer she reached over and grasped his hand like she usually did. “Do you need me to do anything specific? You haven’t tried viewing the death of someone who’s been cursed before.”

“Just stay very close,” he said. Then he turned back to the ghost. “I want to be able to view how you died, but I need to have you pass through me. Can you do that?” The ghost did not nod, but he stood. Sherlock braced himself as the ghost walked through him. He saw glimpses of an underground tunnel and the stairs of the gazebo, felt the terror in his heart, and he heard a malicious laughter that definitely came from a female. Then he felt a shock, as though he’d touched a live wire. He snapped out of the state he was in to find himself on the ground with Molly hovering over him, one hand still holding his and another checking for a pulse. “I’m alive,” he said after a moment.

“You fell and you pulled me down, and you were convulsing and then you just stopped,” she said in a relieved tone as he began to sit up. When he was more upright she leaned forward and touched his face. “You still feel cold.”

“I’ll do the spell to warm up in a moment,” he said, shutting his eyes and going back over what he had seen while it was still fresh. Finding out the information had almost cost him dearly, and there had really been nothing to show for it. With a sigh he opened up his eyes as he murmured the spell to reverse the effects of going where he went to see the final moments of someone’s life. When he was warm to the touch again Molly let go of his hand and removed her hand from his face, and he found he missed the comfort she had given him. “It did no good.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had hoped it would.”

“I had as well.” He stood up and then watched as she did the same. “Did I hurt you when I pulled you down?”

“My hip is a little sore, but it’s nothing a soak in the tub tonight won’t cure,” she said. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

“It’s all right,” she said as she gave him a reassuring smile. “Come on. We have more of the gardens to search, and I think we should get it done sooner rather than later.”

“All right,” he said with a nod, and when she turned and left the gazebo he followed her, his thoughts focused less on searching the gardens and more on just how the man in the gazebo had been cursed and what had happened to him that caused him to feel such terror. He had the feeling it was quite important that he figure that out.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite their best efforts they made no progress that day, and the next day wasn't any better. It soon came time for the party to begin and he was no closer to finding the organ than he had been before. He and Molly had went over every room in the southern part of the home twice over the last two days and found absolutely nothing. He honestly felt quite dejected he'd made so little progress. At four he and Molly had gone back to have a light supper before Anjanette took him to the room that Evelyn's father had used and presented him with the tuxedo he was going to wear that evening. Molly was in the room they had shared getting herself ready. He had no clue how long that was going to take, so once he was dressed he sat on the bed and began going over everything in his head until it was a half hour before the party was to start. He went to the bedroom they were sharing and knocked on the door. “Molly?” he asked.

“Just a moment,” she replied. He waited patiently by the door and when she opened it he stared at her a moment, his eyes wide. She looked extremely stunning in the dress Evelyn had loaned her. It was black and silver and white, with an intricate design laid out in beadwork. Her shorter hair was curled slightly at the bottom, and the make-up she wore was quite a bit more sultry than she normally had on. She blushed slightly. “I look good, I take it?” she asked with a shy smile.

“You look stunning,” he said quietly.

Her blush deepened. “You look very nice yourself,” she said. “This look suits you.”

“I don't like this outfit. I prefer more modern cut tuxedos if I absolutely have to wear one,” he said with a frown. “The jacket is too long and I abhor the vest. And I detest wearing things around my neck. It makes me feel like I'm being strangled. I'm also not particularly fond of the gloves.”

“Well, hopefully we can leave before the party is over and see if maybe it will do something because there's more people here,” she said. Then she looked at him intently and stepped closer. “It's crooked, and much too tight.”

“What is?” he asked.

“Your bow tie. Let me fix it.” She stepped forward and undid the tie that came with the tuxedo, and she went to work on redoing it. When she was done he had to admit he didn't feel as though he was being strangled by the tiny scrap of fabric. “Better?” she asked.

“Much,” he said with a nod. “How did you learn to do that?”

“My father preferred bow ties to regular ties,” she said with a smile. “I learned how to tie them when I was very young. I can tie regular ties as well, but bow ties I can do more quickly.”

“Are you ready to go to the party?” he asked.

“I just need to get my fan,” she said, moving away from the door. She went to the vanity in the room and picked up a feathered fan, and then she came back to Sherlock, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. “All right. I'm ready.”

He hesitated a moment, and then offered her his arm. She took it, looking up at him with a wide smile, and they made their way downstairs. There were already a few guests there, though not many, and they too were in 1920s inspired clothing. He saw a few people in tails and was quite happy there hadn't been any that fit him because he would have refused to come down there if he'd had to wear those. He could already see the extra people who had come in for the party were hard at work, and after spending the last few days with so few people it was strange to see so many there. Soon enough more guests began to arrive, and eventually the main areas of the house were full of people who were talking and laughing, and the live band was playing period appropriate music that he had to admit wasn't entirely unpleasant. But mostly he was keeping an eye out for anything strange. He had spent the whole day feeling like something was building, and he wanted to make sure that no one ended up getting hurt if the malevolent force made its presence known.

He had been so busy paying attention to as much as he could that he had ignored Molly almost completely. When he had glanced at her she appeared to be having a good time, chatting with various people. But at the moment he couldn't see her, so he pulled his attention away and began to actively look for her. He spotted her after a moment dancing with a younger man who was making her laugh, and he realized he felt incredibly jealous at the sight. He stamped down on it as quickly as he could as he watched them on the dance floor. He had made no attempt to offer to dance with her that evening and he shouldn't expect her to spend her evening tethered to him. He had no right to feel jealous, but he did all the same. Finally the song ended and the man lifted up her hand and kissed her knuckles. At that point logic went out the window and he made his way over to her. “Sherlock!” she said with a smile when he came closer. “You should meet the birthday boy. Tyler, this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Tyler Blake.”

The irrational jealousy tapered off quite a bit as Tyler grinned at him. “Pleasure to meet you,” Sherlock murmured.

“I can't believe you're actually here,” Tyler said excitedly. “My mum said she was going to hire you to figure out why this house feels so weird but I didn't think you'd actually stay for the party. It's an honor to meet you.” He held out his hand and Sherlock shook it. “Having any luck?”

“Not enough,” he said with a sigh. “But I hope with there being people here it may force something to happen. Hopefully nothing too disruptive, though.”

“Yeah. It does feel a bit different tonight,” Tyler said, his excitement dimming. “But you know, if something big happens, you deal with weird things all the time, right? You can take care of it?”

“Possibly,” he said.

“Well, hopefully it doesn't come down to that.” He looked over Sherlock's shoulder. “And someone's trying to get my attention. It was a real pleasure dancing with you, Molly. Hopefully we can talk more later.”

“I would love to chat in the morning,” she said with a smile. Tyler gave them both a wave and then moved away from them. Molly turned her attention towards Sherlock at that point. “Have you had any fun tonight?” she asked.

“Not particularly. I've made awkward small talk and not done much else.”

“Then you should dance with me at least once,” she said. Then she paused. “Do you know how to dance?”

“Not really,” he said as the band launched into a slower song.

“Well, there isn't much you have to do to dance to something like this,” she said. “Just don't step on my feet.”

He looked down at her, seeing she was giving him a smile, and he decided one dance wouldn't hurt. He offered her his hand as he stood in front of her, and she put her other hand on his waist as he put his on her shoulder. “One dance, though. Then I need to go back to concentrating on things.”

“One dance is all I ask,” she said as they began to dance to the music. He could tell he wasn't doing too badly because she didn't look cross with him. “I had hoped one day I would get to do this.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Dance with you,” she said. “I mean, I didn't know how, or if you could even dance, but I had wanted to share at least one dance with you if I could. You're definitely exceeding my expectations.”

“I don't know why you would want to do that,” he said. “Other than the fact you fancied me.”

“Well, I suppose I wanted to see if you could actually have some fun,” she said. “Are you having fun?”

He looked down at her. “At this precise moment?” She nodded. “I suppose I am. It's certainly the first time this evening I haven't felt worried that this was all going to blow up in my face.”

“That's good,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “Maybe if we ever do this again it can be some time when we're not working.”

“It's all right to take a break, I suppose,” he conceded. “And at least I'm with better company than I have been most of the night.”

“I've met quite a few fascinating people and had some really interesting discussions,” she said. “But then I've been making it a point to enjoy myself.”

He was quiet for a moment. “If everything doesn't go horribly awry tonight, perhaps you can persuade me to dance with you another time as well.”

“I will definitely do that,” she said, stepping closer. They lapsed into silence at that point and continued to dance through the rest of the song, and when it was over it was with great reluctance that he moved away from her. “I'm going to go get something to drink. Would you like anything?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you.” She gave him a grin and he watched her move away, heading towards where a member of the wait staff was carrying a tray with drinks. She was halfway to him when she stopped in her tracks, and then began to move rather woodenly towards the garden exit. He frowned, and then began to make his way towards her. People kept getting in the way but he managed to keep his eyes on her. She got to the open doors before he did and stepped outside, and a minute later he pushed through the last of the crowd to burst outside. She was heading towards the gazebo. “Molly!” he called over, but she paid him no heed.

He followed her quickly until he was next to her. He reached for her shoulder but he felt a shock the moment his hand touched her shoulder. He pulled his hand back, thankful for the silk gloves because he knew that they had absorbed some of the magical shock. He stayed close behind her as she went to the gazebo. On the side there was a set of stone steps going underneath it that had not been there before, and she began to make her way down them. He followed quickly and saw they were going down and then back the way they had come, but deep under the gardens. The pathway was lit with an eerie green light, and Molly moved as though she was possessed. Even when the pathway split she continued to walk straight.

Finally there was another flight of stairs and then they were in an underground cavern. There was a small organ sitting by an enchanted window. He knew they were deep underground but the window showed the night sky as it had been that evening. Molly made her way to the organ and sat down. Sherlock made to move to her but he found himself immobile. “Ah ah ah,” he heard a familiar voice say from behind him. A few moments later Mrs. Blyden came into view. She did not look the way she did before, though, as though she was a frumpy housekeeper. She had a form fitting black dress on, and her hair was down. But the main difference was the plainly evil look on her face. 

“What have you done?” he asked as he watched her move over to Molly, running a hand along her bare shoulder.

“To you? Trapped you to keep you from stopping me. To her? I'm in the process of letting my son have what he wants. After I get my taste of her, though.” She ran a hand down her back. “I've been the housekeeper at this manor for three hundred years. Most of the time I can steal the life force of a person by getting them to play the organ. But when I have a true need I can take on their identity and pretend to be someone else. Sadly I'll have to wait to do that. My son had _so_ been hoping to have his way with her.”

“Leave her be,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I _had_ planned on taking Anjanette,” she said. “But then my son told me he wanted Molly for himself. I'll take a tiny portion of her life force, and then I'll let him have her.”

He stopped focusing his entire attention on the two women, giving them the barest amount, and he began examining with his other senses the trap he was in. It was complex, but he could see where the magic was threaded and just what he needed to pick apart to unravel it. “And just where is your son?” he asked, beginning the process.

“In the organ,” she replied. “He can only inhabit a body for a short time before he needs to drain the life force of someone. He's resting at the moment. He won't be able to have Molly the way he wants her, but she'll be useful to him.” Then she turned to Sherlock. “Every mother wants to give her son the best.”

“Why do you do this?” he asked.

“I had a lover, an organist who played the most mesmerizing music,” she said. “When I found out I was pregnant he cast me aside. So I cast a spell to end his life. Unfortunately he also knew magic, though I didn't know that at the time. With his dying breath he cursed me. I was dying, slowly but more quickly than a normal woman would. In my frustration I realized I needed life energy from other people. I managed to cast a spell on this organ that when a person played it their life force would slip away from their body and I could siphon it off. The more they played the faster it would tear away from them, and then their body would crumble to dust. I managed to get my first victim by convincing them to test the organ out, make sure it worked properly. And when they were done playing I had their life force. But I didn't realize my son would always need it as well because I hadn't waited until I had birthed him.”

“But why this manor?” he asked, frantically working on undoing the trap with nonverbal magic.

“This was my lover's manor,” she said. “I was the strumpet on the side. Or one of them, anyway. I became the housekeeper after I had my son and constructed this chamber with magic, and when his bereaved family left I kept the organ and moved it here. Then I've availed myself as a member of the staff to every family that's lived here, as soon as I've adopted someone else's life.” 

“And when they become inconvenient or they suspect something you get rid of them, I suppose?” he asked. “Like Ms. Blake’s father?”

Ms. Blyden made a face as she turned to face him. “The foolish man. He was too smart for his own good. And I couldn’t just make him disappear like I did the others. I bewitched him and led him here, and I only took enough of his life force to make him weak. Then I sent him running back to the gazebo and killed him on the steps. If he had simply minded his own business there wouldn’t have been a need.” Then she turned back to Molly. “I think I've answered enough questions. It's time to let my son feed.”

The more he pulled the threads of the spell the faster it was coming undone. He watched as Mrs. Blyden set Molly's hand on the keys and he felt a small push of magic. Molly slowly began to play the organ and he could see a whispy haze of smoke start to come away from Molly. As she began to play faster then he saw another, more distinct shape came from the smoke coming from the organ as she played, and he could see Jamie's face form in it. He could see the haze containing Jamie begin to siphon off the energy coming from Molly, taking more of it than he knew she could survive without and as he pulled the last thread and was able to move again he did the first thing he could think of and sent a blast of fire towards the organ. He could hear an inhuman scream as the organ caught on fire, and he moved quickly to knock Molly from the seat.

“Jamie!” Mrs. Blyden screamed as the organ was consumed by blue fire. She turned back to Sherlock and Molly and advanced on the two of them, a crazed look in her eyes. “Look what you've done! _Look what you've done!_ ” She raised up her hand to cast her own spell and then she began to scream. The blue fire consuming the organ began to wink out, and he saw that it was nothing but charred wood. Mrs. Blyden began to shrivel up as the blue flame went out, and Sherlock watched as her body began to crumble into dust. After a moment the dust fell to the floor and the room was deathly quiet.

He looked away, turning his attention to Molly, but she still had the blank look in her eyes. He pulled off his gloves to feel for a pulse and found it to be faint and her skin to be cold. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I am not going to lose you.” Nothing Merlin had taught him had prepared him for anything like this so he went with his gut instinct. Technically he was immortal so he hoped the half formed plan in his head actually worked. He cast a spell to tap into his own life force, and then once he had siphoned off what he felt like was enough he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, sending his own life force into her body as a person would during mouth to mouth resuscitation. He pulled away to catch his breath and saw there still wasn't a change, so he leaned in again and pushed more energy through to her.

After a moment he felt her move her hands to keep him close and the transfer turned into a kiss. It wasn't until he pulled away the second time that he shut off the flow of his own life force and looked down at her. “What happened?” she asked, sitting up more. “Why were you kissing me?”

“Apparently it had to do with a cursed organ and a woman looking to live forever,” he said, moving a hand to touch her face as relief coursed through him. “And I wasn't kissing you. I was saving your life.”

“With CPR?” she asked.

“In a magical way, yes,” he said. “You kissed me, however.”

“I'm sorry,” she said as she sat up completely. “I didn't mean to. I just--” He cut her off by leaning in and kissing her. She moved her hands up to frame his face as she kissed him back, and when they were done she pulled away with a grin on her face. “So _that_ time you meant to kiss me.”

“Yes, that time I meant to kiss you,” he said. “Did you mind?”

She shook her head and then put her arms around his neck. He held her close, relishing the fact she was alive and well and she wasn't upset he had kissed her. “So it's all over?” she asked.

“It's all over,” he said. “No one else is going to be taken and the feeling that there is evil on the property should be gone.”

“Good,” she said. They stayed like that a few more minutes before she pulled away. “I'd like to leave here now. Go back up to the manor and get as far away from all this as I can.”

He nodded, standing up. Once he was up he offered her his hand. She stood and they looked at the charred remains of the organ and the pile of dust beside it. “I need to do something before we can leave,” he said.

“What do you need to do?” she asked.

“I need to make sure this place is sealed off, that no one can ever use it this way again. But we need to be farther back into the pathway for me to do that.” She nodded and he led the way back towards the stairs. When they had gotten up the stairs and were on the pathway he looked at what he had to work with. He couldn't collapse the ceiling because there might be something above it that would be damaged. He couldn't simply fill it with water. What he decided to do in the end was raise the floor up until it hit the ceiling. “I need to use you as a tether,” he said.

She nodded and gave him her hand, threading her fingers through his. “All right.”

He hadn't done magic like this before, but he had a fairly good idea of what to do. He slowly coaxed the ground underneath to move farther up, making sure he did it in stages so that it was level. As he did that he realized that Mrs. Blyden had simply compacted the dirt underneath the chamber as much as she could and he was simply allowing it to go back to it's natural position. Slowly the dirt began to fill the chamber, and after a moment the stairs leading down to the underground chamber were covered in dirt. Satisfied no one would be able to use the room again he took a step back. “I'm done.”

“Can't someone find this place?” she asked as they turned around.

He shook his head. “I kept her wards in place. She had it protected from being able to be found magically. And if someone digs then hopefully they won't realize exactly what was down there.”

She looked over at him and then squeezed his hand. “Do you know how to get back?”

“I do,” he said. “And once we do I'll make sure no one can open it from that end. They may have to replace the gazebo, however.”

“I think if it stops all of this from happening again it won't matter,” she said.

“I hope so.” They made their way back up the pathway to the entrance next to the gazebo and when they got out he studied it. He knelt down and touched the ground near the steps, studying the spell used to open up the passageway. It was a much simpler spell than the other one he had dismantled, and he began to pick it apart. After a moment the spell was reversed and when he stepped on the ground where the steps had been he found the ground was solid underneath his feet. He looked at the gazebo for a moment, seeing the ghost. The look of terror was no longer in his eyes. “Mr. Blake,” he said, inclining his head.

“Thank you,” Mr. Blake said, his voice slightly hollow. “You’ve freed us all.”

“I had hoped that would be the case,” Sherlock said.

“Tell my daughter and grandson I love them very much.”

He nodded. “I will.” With that Mr. Blake brightened considerably and then was gone. He turned and saw Molly staring in shock. “You saw that?” he asked.

“I heard him, too,” she said. “What exactly happened to me?”

“I’m not sure,” he said with a frown. “I’ll have to talk to Merlin about that.”

She stepped closer to him. “So it’s all over now?” she asked.

He nodded. “Before we leave tomorrow I'll suggest they tear down this gazebo and make it bigger, covering up the hidden stairs. Just in case.”

“That would probably be best,” she said. She reached over for his hand again. “I don't know about you but I'm exhausted. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.”

“Then let's get back inside and get you to bed,” he said. “I think we'll both sleep soundly enough to ignore the party.”

She nodded and they made their way back to the manor, hand in hand. This honestly had the best outcome he could have anticipated, aside from the fact that Molly almost died in the process. He had the feeling that was going to haunt him for some time to come.


	6. Chapter 6

He slept for far longer than he usually did when he went to sleep. The sheer amount of spell work he'd done in such a short amount of time had completely worn him out, and when he finally woke up he could see the sun was already up and shining on his face. Based on its position he guessed it was some time after ten, and considering they had both finally gotten into the bed at eleven meant he had slept nearly twelve hours. He could have easily checked his watch but that would have meant removing his arm from Molly's waist and he didn't feel like doing that right now. That had surprised him, when they had finally gone to sleep. The minute she was under the bedding she had moved closer to him, pulled his arm across her waist and then waited. He pulled her as close as he could and then she had snuggled against him and gone to sleep. He'd followed suit shortly thereafter, and apparently they hadn't moved an inch the entire night.

It was with great reluctance that he finally let her go. “I didn't think you were ever going to wake up,” she said in response.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked with surprise as she rolled over to face him.

“A little over an hour now,” she said, giving him a grin. “You had your arm locked around my waist and I couldn't move it at all. So I've been laying here waiting for you to wake up.”

“My apologies,” he said. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was ten thirty-nine, so he had been asleep for just under twelve hours. “Apparently the more I exert myself the more I sleep.”

“What exactly did you do down there?” she asked. “I could feel myself slipping away, and then I just gradually came back, and then all at once I was here again.”

“The Blydens stole your life force,” he said quietly. “I wasn't able to pick apart the magic trapping me fast enough to keep them from nearly draining you. So when I got free and they were destroyed I transferred some of mine to you.”

“Had you ever done that before?” she asked.

“I honestly didn't know I could,” he said. “I just knew I wasn't going to lose you right then, and I would do everything I could to save you.”

She moved closer to him until their bodies were nearly touching. “I appreciate that,” she said quietly. “I wasn't ready to leave.”

He moved his hand and ran it along her waist. “I would have found a way to summon Merlin if it hadn't worked and had him tell me how to save you,” he replied. “And if he told me I couldn't I would have kept trying until there was no point.”

“I'm important to you,” she said.

“More than you can imagine,” he said. “You told me at the start of all this that you were surprised you were the stronger tether because you thought I liked John more. John is important to me, that is true, but somehow you've wormed your way deep into my life. I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I've come to the realization that of everyone in the world, you are the most important person in it to me.”

She put her hands on his chest. “I had no clue you actually felt that way,” she said.

“I didn't know how to tell you. And I wasn't sure you still felt the same way.”

She leaned in and kissed him softly. After a moment he kissed her back, keeping the kiss light. It was a brief kiss, and when she pulled away she gave him a wide smile. “I still fancy you quite a bit, Sherlock. I never really stopped. I had just accepted that perhaps you would never feel the same way and I should be happy for having you in my life at all instead of yearning for something I might never get.”

“I should have told you before all of this,” he said.

“But you told me now, so that counts for something,” she said.

“I'm glad it does.” He held her close for a few more minutes. “I suppose we should see if everyone else is awake and tell them the good news, that their problem is solved.”

“Are you going to tell them everything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “If they ask for details I might give them some, but they don't need to know everything. I will tell them the main facts: that the Blydens were behind it, and there was a curse, and the curse has been broken and everyone is safe now. I'll pass along the message from Mr. Blake and I’ll also recommend building the bigger gazebo to make sure no one can accidentally stumble on the secret entrance.”

She nodded, and he pulled away from her, getting out of bed as soon as he was able. She got out a moment later and he went to get clothing to take into the other room and change into. He went to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway, and he saw Anjanette coming up to the door. “Monsieur Holmes. I see you are finally awake,” she said with a smile.

He nodded. “Yes, I am,” he said. “I was quite worn out.”

“Something very big happened, did it not?” she asked. “Because the sense of evil looming is gone now.”

“The problem has been taken care of,” he said. “There shouldn't be any more trouble for your employer now.”

“Good,” she said, her smile widening. “I'm afraid you will not be able to use any of the other guest bedrooms to change into your clothes, as they are all occupied at the moment with guests who had a bit too much of a good time last night. But you are more than welcome to go back to Monsieur Blake's bedroom. No one is in there.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I will tell Mademoiselle Blake that you are awake and I will see if Madame Shaw is willing to make the both of you something to eat. If you slept as long as you did I am sure you are famished,” she said.

“I hadn't thought about it but I'm quite starved,” he said.

“Then go change. I will take care of things. Just head to the kitchen when you are done.” She headed back down the corridor and then paused. “Thank you, Monsieur Holmes. I truly feel much safer here now,” she said when she turned back around.

“You're quite welcome,” he said with a nod. She turned back around and walked away from him, and he began to make the trek to the other bedroom. He let himself in and had pulled off the shirt he slept in when he got the awareness that he wasn't in the room alone anymore. “You could have helped at any point last night, you know,” he said pointedly to the visitor who had appeared out of nowhere.

“Magically warded,” Merlin said in response from his position lying down on the bed. “I'm strong, I know that, but you were completely lost to me while you were down there. I'm sure if I'd nosed around I would have found the entrance, but I think it would have been too late to save Molly at that point.”

“Do I want to know how you know what ended up happening?” Sherlock asked.

“I can read memories and thoughts. It's usually easier to do when I'm touching someone, but I can do it without touching a person too. I'll teach you how to do it soon. It would probably be extremely useful in your line of work, and it certainly would have prevented a lot of problems you ran into.” He sat up more. “You have a gift for creating spells on the fly. You have a better grasp of doing that than I did at this point in your training. The spell against that wanker was brilliant and multifaceted. I may have to borrow that one if I'm ever faced with someone who abuses a position of power. But that's a different topic. My point is, you shouldn't have been able to save Molly last night, and you _did_.”

“How bad was it?” he asked, surprised.

“She'd lost most of her life force. They hadn't siphoned off enough that she would have crumbled to dust, but she should be in a coma right now that she wouldn't be able to wake up from. Destroying the organ was a smart move, but you should have reversed the flow of her life force before you did it. Then you wouldn't have needed to share.”

“I wasn't thinking clearly,” he admitted.

“I get the feeling where Molly is concerned you are going to have a very hard time thinking clearly,” he said thoughtfully. “That is a very dangerous thing, but it can also be a good thing. It's dangerous in that there is now a very large target on her back, and others will attempt to use her as a pawn in their games, but it's also good because keeping her safe means you will train harder. There is still so much more you need to learn, and while you were picking it up at a fast clip before you'll double down now. You don't ever want to go through this again, I can see it in your thoughts.”

“I came very close to losing her,” he said quietly, moving to the bed and sitting down. “I could see that just by looking at her, and then when I felt for her pulse and found it was faint and she was cold I knew it was worse than I'd thought. So I used logic. I am technically immortal, so I could siphon off my life force and still have enough left over to stay alive, and if I could transfer it to her it would hopefully counter the effects of losing her own.”

“The fact you were still able to use logic in that situation is astounding,” Merlin said. “But that was exactly what I would have done. Things are going to be a little bit different now, though.”

“How so?”

“Using your life force means she's going to be more sensitive to the things you can see and do. Considering how much you had to share I wouldn't be surprised if she develops the ability to see the threads of magic spells since we know she can see ghosts now. She might even be able to cast a few small spells herself, if she got enough of your talent during the exchange. She won't be nearly as powerful as you are, but her life just got more interesting. You need to prepare her for that because it's going to be a shock. We both do, actually. And I need to see just how much power she has to decide if she needs training or not. But I can do that when you're back in London.”

Sherlock nodded. “I'll tell her when I go back to the room, then.”

Merlin got off the bed at that point. “You should also know the two of you are linked now, for the rest of your lives. I would keep that in mind as you two navigate this new turn in your relationship. You are always going to have a connection, regardless of how this potential romantic relationship pans out, and she's going to be able to read you like an open book now. So I would try _really_ hard to never lie to her.”

“That is going to make life interesting,” he said with a slight sigh. “And will I be as connected to her?”

“I think you already were. Now it just goes both ways.” He looked over at Sherlock. “Go break the news to her before you tell the owner of this home the good news. Give it some time to sink in that her life is irrevocably different now. And let her know if she has any questions I'll make sure I'm around to answer them.”

“Merlin?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes?”

“Why wasn't I able to sense that Mrs. Blyden was behind this?” he asked curiously.

He thought for a moment. “She's had a very long time to learn how to protect herself from being found out. I don't know exactly how much magical potential or skill her son had, but I doubt it was much or he’d have been able to counter your spells. He had enough power to cause trouble, though. That's why you felt something was off. But this is definitely something we need to work on so you don't get blindsided again.”

Sherlock was quiet a moment. “In the grand scheme of things, did this trip make a difference?”

“You mean in the big fight?” Merlin asked. Sherlock nodded. “It did, a little. That witch practiced dark magic, and that cursed organ wasn't the only evil she had wrought. You dealt him a blow by destroying them. But there are many more to take their place. You just have to keep chipping away at his power consistently until you make a measurable dent. But I think because of the skills you showed you have during this encounter you have a good chance of doing it if you keep taking the weird cases as your primary cases.” Then he gave Sherlock a grin. “You did really well here, though. I think their master knows he can't underestimate you. It's going to make him try harder, but I think you're up for the challenge.”

“I'm glad to know it helped,” he said. Merlin nodded and then he was gone. Sherlock went back to getting dressed and then made his way back to the bedroom. He knocked on the door when he got there. “Molly?”

“I'm decent,” she called back.

He opened the door and stepped inside. She was standing by the bed, and when he got closer he could see she was chewing on her bottom lip slightly. Something must have happened. “Are you all right?” he asked, standing in front of her.

“I think I saw another ghost,” she said, looking at him. “This one was a more vaguely person shaped ball of smoke, but he waltzed through the room and I _saw_ him. I had thought that because I had been affected by the same organ that’s why I could see Mr. Blake but this one was carrying his head in his arms, I think.”

“Merlin just told me that might happen,” he replied.

“Merlin was here?” she asked, her eyes widening.

He nodded. “He told me a few things he felt I needed to know and a few things that you needed to know. We're linked now, in a way that allows you to be able to read me like an open book. And you may have gotten some of my talent. Seeing ghosts is one aspect he was fairly sure you'd develop. You might be able to see the threads of magic spells as well, and it might even be possible for you to cast spells, though that he wasn’t as sure about.”

“It's going to take some getting used to, I think,” she said.

“I'm sorry for that,” he said quietly.

“I'm not. I'd rather be alive than not be alive,” she said, reaching over for his hand. He looked over at her and saw she was giving him a small smile. Then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I think I'd like to get something to eat, give everyone the good news and talk to Tyler for a bit and then go home. Does that sound like a good idea to you?”

“Yes, it does,” he said. “The sooner we get home the better.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” she said, her smile growing wider. He gave her a grin back and relaxed a bit more. She seemed to be taking this newest development well enough, and he was incredibly grateful for that. Hopefully it would stay that way, and whatever it was that was happening between them would have the chance to flourish, because he really didn't want to go back to a life without her in it. He knew that that life wouldn't be a life worth living, and he wanted to make the most of this second chance they both had gotten.

She stood up at that point and the two of them walked to the door, holding hands. They made their way down to the kitchen and saw everyone was sitting at the table. “I don't like so many people in the kitchen, but as long as no one gets in my way--” Marta was saying when they stepped inside the room. She turned and gave Sherlock and Molly a wide grin. “Glad to see the two of you are finally awake.”

“It was a very grueling night,” he said.

“Anjanette said that everything was all right now,” Evelyn said from the table. “It certainly feels that way.”

Sherlock nodded. “Mrs. Blyden was behind it. She was a witch of some sort and she cursed an object that she used to elongate her life.” Everyone else in the room looked shocked, including Adriana, which he found slightly surprising. He turned to look at her specifically. “You seem not to be taking this news with skepticism.”

“I was never here when the rest of the staff disappeared,” she said slowly. “Last night I felt something and I heard the organ playing while I was out of the ballroom. It chilled me to the bone.”

“How did she take people lives?” Tyler asked from next to his mother.

“By making them play an organ she had hidden under the home,” Sherlock replied. “Molly was nearly the most recent victim.”

“How long has this been going on?” Evelyn asked, her eyes wide.

“Three hundred years,” he said. “She was the jilted lover of the original owner of the organ, and he was the owner of this home. She hid the organ and then found a way to stay on as housekeeper ever since, inhabiting other people's bodies when there was a need.”

“All those poor people,” Marta said, shaking her head. “And none of us even suspected her.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Your father was one of her victims, Ms. Blake. He had gotten curious and since she couldn’t simply make him disappear she had him play the organ for a time and then run through the passage to the organ and up to the gazebo before she killed him. He asked me to tell you and your son that he loved you.”

Evelyn gave him a small smile. “I am glad to know that,” she said quietly. “So it’s all over?”

“Yes. I would recommend you tear down the gazebo and build a much larger one in its place,” Sherlock said to her. “There was a way to get to the chamber next to it, and the gazebo being larger will keep people from searching for it.”

Evelyn nodded. “I'll do that. Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes.” He nodded towards her as she stood. Adriana stood as well. “We have things to do and other guests that will be waking up with their hangovers. Marta's in for a busy day, and we should leave her in peace to make something for Mr. Holmes and Ms. Hooper to eat.”

“Can I still talk to you before you go?” Tyler asked Molly.

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “When I'm done eating maybe we can go in the parlor?”

“Or he can stay here and you can chat while I cook and you eat,” Marta said with a chuckle.

“Great!” Tyler said enthusiastically. “I definitely want to hear more about your job.”

Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand once and then moved over to the table as Evelyn, Adriana and Anjanette all left the kitchen. Sherlock watched for a moment before turning to Marta, who was giving him a knowing smile. “Yes?” he asked.

“I think the two of you are going to be good for each other, that's all,” she said before turning her attention to the skillet. “I think you both need each other.”

“I suppose you're right,” he murmured before turning back and watching Molly animatedly relate a story to Tyler. He was more thankful than ever that he had been able to save her, because he truly did think Marta was right. He had the feeling that for as long as they were in a relationship they would be quite good for each other, and that was a very good thing.


End file.
